A/N: This is possibly the filthiest story I've written in a while. It's all Franklin's fault. Very much rated M. Be warned.

Dress Up Game

"No. No no no. Not you!" Talbot said as he rushed towards the two new guests. One, Talbot knew; the other was a stranger.

Franklin had his arm entwined with Tara's. Well, sort of. Her hands were still taped together, holding the bouquet of dying flowers, and Franklin had stuck his arm in between hers to guide her inside the mansion. Tara was shaking like a leaf at his side. "Russell's expecting me," Franklin said with the tiniest of smiles.

"He's out. He'll be a while," Talbot said, glancing over at one of the many guards of the manor with raised brows.

This did not seem to phase Franklin in the slightest. "We'll wait." Franklin detached himself from Tara's arms and sat down, clutching a briefcase full of information for the king of Mississippi.

Talbot glared at Franklin for a second, but then his eyes fell upon Tara. "Is this for me?" he asked, inspecting her as she stared at him with bulging eyes. Her breath hitched in her throat and he could hear her heartbeat. "It's skinny," Talbot commented in a disgusted tone, and walked away.

Shaking with terror, Tara watched Talbot as he left, making sure that he wouldn't change his mind and decide that she would be delectable for dinner. She glanced back at Franklin, wishing that she had never met the man who willingly led her into harm's way.

Franklin winked at her; such a falsely sweet gesture. Tara quickly looked away. All that bullshit with Maryann suddenly didn't seem half-bad to the way her life was playing out with Franklin in it.

"Won't you come join me?" Franklin asked, peeling one of his hands off the suitcase he was gripping to pat the seat next to him gently.

Tara cursed under her mouth and reluctantly sat down next to her kidnapper. "Will you fucking untie me?" she spat at Franklin, trying for the hundredth time to wrestle her hands free from the duct tape that forced her to hold the flowers. "It's starting to hurt!"

Franklin looked pleased. In his many years, willingness just did not seem to excite him in the least anymore. He relished in the fear and pain of humans. It was almost as savory as their blood. "But I don't want to untie you yet," he whispered to her, smiling against her chocolate skin. He rubbed his cold face against her tense arm, enjoying her body heat. Tara quickly drew back from his touch. A normal, moral man would be sad at her withdraw, maybe even a little hurt, but it only fed Franklin's sadism.

Tara felt like crying, but she was too tough for that, and sure as hell did not want to give Franklin that kind of satisfaction. She sat as far away from Franklin as her chair allowed her and forced herself to look anywhere but in his direction, for she knew that he'd be staring at her with a wide smile on his face and that would only piss Tara off more. She tried to unclench her fists around the bouquet. Her palms were so sweaty.

Her kidnapper absentmindedly tapped his feet on the porcelain tile and whistled a tune that Tara did not recognize. She wished he'd shut up. She didn't want to lose her temper in some rich white guy's house – especially if he was a vampire.

Franklin shot up from his chair. "Let's go," he told Tara, releasing the briefcase from his two arms so that he could simply carry it in one hand. As if Tara could wrestle it from his grip.

"Aren't we going to wait for that guy to get back?" Tara asked, not bothering to stand up. She was too weak to get up on her own anyway.

"We are still going to wait for Russell, just not here." Franklin grabbed her taped wrists and yanked her up from her chair. Tara winced in pain. He pulled the flowers free from Tara's grip and dropped them mindlessly to the floor. He snaked his arm between Tara's again and dragged her over to the staircase leading up into the mansion.

"Where, then?" Tara whined, stumbling up the stairs behind Franklin. The absence of the bouquet caused her hands to cramp momentarily until they became numb.

Normally, Franklin did not answer her questions, but really, what was the harm in it now? "We're going to wait for him in a room," he said, finally reaching the second floor. He pulled Tara down a wide, extravagant hallway until he was standing in front of an ornate door. Franklin opened the door and pushed Tara inside, closing the door behind the two of them. "A step up from a cheap motel, don't you think?"

"Are you going to untie me in here?" Tara inquired.

Franklin considered her question and smiled. "Actually, Tara. I am," he said calmly, leading her to the lavish queen size four-poster bed. He placed his hand on her shoulders and eased her to sit down on the bed's edge.

"What?" Tara asked incredulously, not believing Franklin for a second. He already had her tied up for hours, and she asked a thousand times for him to release her. He always said no or changed the subject. What made him change his mind now?

Franklin knelt down in front of her shaking legs and placed his cold hands around her bound fists. He kissed her hands gently and wondered if Tara even felt it, or if her hands were too numb. Franklin pushed back the white rope and found an end of a strip of duct tape. He wiggled the corner free, held it firmly between his fingers, and pulled the strip of tape clean off her skin.

She howled in pain when the tape was removed. It felt like it ripped of layers of her skin. A tear drop rolled down her cheek.

Franklin found another piece of tape and pulled. This time it didn't hurt so much since it was mostly covering the final piece of tape and not her skin. Tara only jumped from the anticipation of the pain. Franklin grabbed the last, final piece. He shut his eyes slowly, listening to her pounding heart and her staccato breathing. There was no greater sound in his mind. Franklin opened his eyes and ripped the tape away.

Tara cried out again. She stretched out her fingers and tired to work out the cramps. She was able to move her wrists, but not much since the white rope still was constricted around her. Tara moved to untie herself, but she felt Franklin's wet tongue slide across her skin where the tape had previously been. The stinging sensation ebbed considerably. When he swiped his tongue at her abused skin again, Tara could feel his hard, sharp fangs. She stilled; the last thing she wanted was him feeding off her again.

"Tara," he said softly – his voice was a caress. It made her shiver. Franklin placed his hands lightly on the rope and slowly untied her wrists. The rope fell to the floor with a lame thud, and Tara extended her arms out in front of her, whimpering at the stiff ache. Franklin ran his hands up and down her arms, soothing them with his cold touch. "Does that feel nice?" he whispered softly.

"Uh.. yeah," Tara said, her eyes wide with fear. It certainly felt better than being tied and taped up for hours on end.

Franklin stood up, pulling Tara up off the bed with him. "Let's play a game," he said, and Tara knew she couldn't say she didn't feel up to it.

"What kind of game?" Tara asked, her voice hitching in her throat. She was certain that any game Franklin wanted to play, she would not find fun in the slightest.

Franklin led her to the elegant wooden wardrobe south of the four-poster bed. "A dress up game," he said with a smile. Franklin opened the small doors of the wardrobe and lightly caressed the clothes that were stored inside on hangers. "I've prepared this wardrobe just for you," Franklin told Tara, running a finger softly against her flushed cheek.

Tara glanced inside the wardrobe. There were four extravagant dresses hanging on the wardrobe rack, and one ivory colored dress was folded and placed on the shelf above the rack. All of the dresses were outdated, from a completely different era – perhaps the one that Franklin was turned in. Tara's face scrunched up and said, "They're all old."

"They'll be beautiful on you," Franklin said, sliding his tongue down Tara's neck languidly. He could feel her excited pulse. "Don't you like them?"

To be honest, Tara thought they were pretty hideous, and they smelled like moth balls. She didn't want to wear a single one of them. "Do you like them?" Franklin asked again when Tara did not answer, flicking his fangs over her ear.

"Yeah, sure. They're really... fussy," Tara said, placing her palm against the smooth fabric.

Franklin did not seem to mind her comment; probably because it was true. He pulled out a beautiful steel blue satin dress. There were short sleeves that would fall off her shoulders, the neckline scooped down, and the skirt belled out widely. The dress was accented with beautiful gold beading and a corset cinched around the waist of the gown. "This will look lovely on you," Franklin said softly, holding the opulent dress up to Tara. "Take off your clothes."

Tara exhaled harshly. She pulled her ivory tank top up over her head and pushed her jean shorts down and stepped out of them.

"All your clothes, Tara," Franklin said, running his index finger down one of her bra straps.

Tara glared at him, but quickly unbuckled her bra and took off her panties. She shivered; the whole mansion was cool in temperature. The thick bed comforter was beckoning her to hide inside of it, but that was most assuredly out of the question until Franklin was done with her.

"Do you know how to put this on?" Franklin asked, holding up the dress.

"No," Tara said sharply. "I've never seen a dress like the before in my life."

Franklin smiled slyly and removed the heavy dress from its hanger. "Then I will help you," he said gently, unzipping the back of the gown. He held it open for Tara to step into. She got into the dress one leg at a time and Franklin pulled the material up her body. Once the dress was up to her torso, Tara reluctantly held out her arms. The sleeves rested lightly against her skin. "Turn around," Franklin told her. Tara slowly spun around so that her back was to him and he zipped up the dress. "Turn around again, Tara. Let me see you."

She stepped to face Franklin again. He smiled widely, flashing his long fangs. He picked up the corset and lined it up under her bust and around her waist. Franklin walked behind her so he could tie up the back. He pulled the strings tightly, cinching Tara's waist in several inches. She cried out in pain and placed a hand gingerly against the corset. It was so tight that she had to struggle to breathe. Franklin tied the strings in a taut bow. "All done."

Tara knew that he was just done dressing her; he was not done with her.

Franklin lifted her chin up to him and kissed her. He offensively thrust his tongue into her mouth repeatedly and two tears escaped the corners of Tara's eyes. Once, when she was so lonely that she could not stand it, she'd have given anything to kiss a man. But now, with Franklin – who tied her up, tortured and abused her – she wondered if she'd ever desire to kiss a man again.

He wrapped his hand around her neck and pushed her back down onto the bed. The bed was soft and comfortable, but Tara felt incredibly uneasy with Franklin hovering over her. He cupped her breasts through the satin fabric, and kneaded her globes. Tara hated herself for moaning slightly; her body betrayed her heart and mind. "That's more like it," Franklin commented, sliding down her body.

Franklin gathered handfuls of fabric and pushed it up and away from Tara to expose her. He tucked the excess fabric under her so he could still see her face instead of a mountain of satin. Tara's legs were quivering slightly and her breathing was uneven. Franklin bent down and inhaled her scent. She smelled musky and bitter; she needed a shower. Franklin's eyes rolled slightly in their sockets and he blew lightly on her tender skin.

Tara whined and her body contorted slightly, basking in the feeling until she lay still again. She glared down at Franklin. "Please stop," she muttered.

He didn't stop; of course he didn't. Franklin blew on her again and she tossed her head back, digging it into the pillow. She convulsed again, riding out the light sensation, only this time she did not still. Tara felt Franklin's sharp, wet tongue. It flicked harshly at her swollen bud and she twitched and her back arched like a bow. She tilted her head to the side and released a stifled moan into the pillow.

Franklin looked up at her. His lips were sanguine and slightly dampened. "Don't do that. I want to hear you." Tara scrunched up her face, but shoved the pillow away. Franklin ran his tongue across her again languidly. It was only enough for her to jerk in frustration. After everything he had put her through, Tara hated him even more for denying her sweet release.

Franklin pulled back from her, unzipped his trousers, and pushed into her in one swift motion. Tara groaned at his intrusion. With a normal lover, she would touched him, pulled his face down to meet her lips, meet his thrusts – but Franklin was anything but a normal lover. Tara simply arched her body into Franklin's and grunted as he pounded into her.

She convulsed and clamped down around him, pulling out his release deep inside of her. Franklin withdrew from her just as swiftly as he had entered her. Tara was shaking and her eyes were closed.

There was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" Franklin asked, licking his lips.

"Russell is back," Talbot said from the other side of the door. "Please come downstairs. He wants to offer you and your guest dinner." Talbot did not sound happy at all.

Franklin did not speak until he heard Talbot's footsteps walk down the hall. "Let's go, Tara," he told her smoothly with a smile. "And fix your dress."

"Aren't you going to let me clean up?" Tara asked with pleading eyes.

"No, Tara," he said, running his finger across her cheek. "We don't have that kind of time." Franklin stood up from the bed, situated his pants, and waited for Tara to get up from the bed.

Tara frowned at Franklin. She felt filthy and used, but she stood up. The skirt of the dress fell to her feet and Franklin's fluid ran stickily down her thighs. She felt awful, and was certain she smelled worse. Franklin loved his smell on her, especially after it dried on her flushed skin for him to enjoy later.

Franklin held out his arm – putting on his gentlemanly act – and Tara unwillingly took it.

-fin